


Love

by fickle_fics



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickle_fics/pseuds/fickle_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been eight months now, and Mark finally makes a move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love

Cassie knows boys, they’re easy to fuck, that’s the thing. You give them a look, a smile and it’s that simple. The problem is Mark isn’t a boy, and she doesn’t want to fuck him, because he’s worth so much more than that. She _wants_ so much more than that. She wants it to be perfect because he deserves that, only that isn’t the half of it. It isn’t only that she wants it to be perfect, it’s that it’s so difficult. It doesn’t matter how many times she gives him that look, it doesn’t even matter how many times she crawls into his lap, slips her hand beneath his t-shirt and her tongue into his mouth it never goes any further and it’s been eight months now since they started sleeping together and it’s so frustrating it’s all she can do not to cry.

She’s been in this position before of course, laying wide awake in bed with a man (boy) she desperately wants to sleep with. It’s not the same as it was with Sid though, Mark isn’t in love with another woman (girl), only somehow that makes the situation all the more depressing, because that she could understand, that she could deal with. She wouldn’t mind being a substitute, she’s been there and done that. That’s easy, it’s easier than this -laying beside someone she knows genuinely cares about her but can’t quite bring himself to do anything. She doesn’t know how to deal with that and it hurts more than anything she’s been through, a dull ache in her heart every night.

Still here she is, her head on his chest, focusing on the slow beating of his heart and his thumb moving up and down against her stomach over the fabric of his t-shirt (his t-shirt because even though all her things are here now she still prefers to sleep in his clothes, because they’re comforting, they make her feel closer to him.) and it’s something, it’s tenderness and no one in the world has ever given her that. It should be enough, and in many ways it is, but there’s always that frustration, that very real urge for more. She can’t relax properly and she should be able to, but all her mind tends to focus on late at night is his presence, on the warmth of his body, his arm protectively around her, his breathing. Which is why she’s still wide awake, enjoying the movement of his hand, and why she stiffens as his hand moves, slips beneath his t-shirt on to her skin and it’s the smallest of moves, but with Mark it means everything because he doesn’t do skin on skin if he can possibly help it, as if that will cause some huge issue between them. She holds her breath as his hand continues to move upwards, cupping her breast ever so gently and then he speaks.

“Okay, darling?” he whispers, kissing her shoulder.

“Mmmm,” she replies because she doesn’t want to alert his attention to how huge a deal this is, because considering all the things she’s done this should be nothing, but it isn’t. It’s everything.

His fingers dance slowly over her, skimming over the side swell and underside of her breast, thumb moving over her nipple, allowing himself this. This knowledge of her body, because he knows Cassie wants more from him, and he wants to be able to give it to her. He just can’t, because nothing good will come of it and he doesn’t want to disappoint her. But this, this is safe, isn’t it? A simple touch and her nipple hardens below his thumb, and his mind instantly goes to taking it in his mouth, to running his tongue over it and hearing her moan, and that feeling of guilt flares in his stomach. She’s too precious for that.

“Mark,” his name escapes her lips before she can stop herself, slightly desperate because she’s been waiting months for this. She presses back against him and he’s hard, not that that’s much of a change. He’s often hard when they’re in bed together he just has this amazing ability to ignore that fact rather than act on his desires.

He closes his eyes, tries to decide what to do, an argument playing out in his head - pull away, press back and it’s not like he doesn’t know she wants this. She tries so hard but Cassie is not the most subtle of people, and it’s been two months now since she moved in and he’s just drunk, tired and horny enough to not care nearly as much as he normally would, so he stays where he is, lets her press against him, because it’s nice, more than nice actually and his fingers tighten around her breast, squeezing it and she gasps in a way that makes his cock stir and all he can think about is whether she felt it or not.

Her heart is pounding in her ears, the muscles between her legs pulsing and she reminds herself it’s nothing. She’s been further than this with boys whose names she didn’t know and it did nothing for her, but this is just so much more, and perhaps it’s because he hasn’t touched her like this in eight fucking months, or perhaps it’s because it’s _him_ and he means more than anyone she’s ever met.

“Please.” She isn’t even sure what she’s asking for, just something, anything more because her body is suddenly on total alert, all the nerve endings just there waiting desperately for his touch.

“Cass.” Her name is against her neck, his breath hot and his voice low and there is no one else that could have such an effect on her. Oh Sid used to make her come, but that was physical - this is so, so much more. His voice is enough to send her ever so slightly crazy, the look on his face when he tries not to notice her changing, or gets just a glimpse of bare skin, because it isn’t pure lust, it’s something deeper, something adult and restrained and it isn’t how she ever imagined being looked at.

“I love you,” she says into the darkness for possibly the hundredth time, as if it changes things because she still clings to the hope that one day it will. She wants to turn round, she wants to kiss him in that way that always makes him pull back, breathless and flushed and full of apologies only that would mean disrupting his hand and that feels as if it would be the very worst thing she could do. Instead she twists her head awkwardly and manages to catch his lips in a sloppy, desperate, half kiss. “Please,” she says again, the words against his lips. “ _Please_.” And she sees his eyes close in the sliver of street light coming in through the curtains. Sees him fighting with himself because Mark is no good at hiding every single feeling he’s ever had.

“You could never disappoint me,” she says. “I love you, Mark. I love you and I want you to touch me.” She turn her head slightly so it’s close to his ear. “I want you to _fuck_ me, but in the meantime you touching me is enough, I just…I want more. I need more, Mark.”

He’s resisted her for two solid months, while she’s been there in nothing but his t-shirts, while she’s changed in front of him like it’s nothing, while she’s planted herself in his lap late at night when they’ve both been slightly drunk and kissed him like he was a teenager. He’s laid beside her trying to convince his cock that it doesn’t want to be hard and failed every single time. He’s wanked in the bathroom when she’s been out shopping to try and rid himself of the frustration and in this moment he can’t think why he’s done any of those things. 

His other hand moves over her stomach and beneath the waist band of her knickers, pressing inwards quickly, before he can possibly come to his senses, because he needs to get to the point of no return when she’s making any number of incredible sounds and pressing even further against him. She exhales long and low and once again his cock twitches against her back and he kisses her as he fingers slide inwards not nearly as tentative as he’s sure they should. It’s as if his body’s decided to take over from his brain, to just ignore every worry he has and just _do_ something.

Her hips tilt towards his touch without her wanting them to, her breath already unsteady because this is everything she’s every wanted - those glorious hands between her legs. She’s masturbated over this thought when he’s been at work, her face pressed into his pillow, but the reality is better, a spark exploding with every single movement only she’s scared of being too vocal for fear of frightening him off.

“Fuck,” she hisses, because she can’t _not_ , because something has to escape from inside her mind and at least she isn’t moaning and screaming and crying and fucking herself against his hand which she wants to do more than anything, but she’s certain that would make him stop.

“Okay, darling?” he whispers into her hair, almost stilling his fingers, but again his body has completely overruled his brain and he just _can’t_.

She nods, not really trusting his voice, but if he has to ask he clearly has no ability to read body language and she could have sworn he was smarter than that.

He bites his lip, focusing on nothing but her and she’s so perfect, so warm and soft and tight and pressing into him like this is the only thing she wants and he wants to make her come. It took him months to figure out Liz though, and she tended to tell him what to do and all he’s aware of is now badly this could end.

Only this is enough. An orgasm would be the cherry on the cake, but Cassie honestly could not care less, because it’s _Mark_ , touching her, his fingers inside her and coming is _nothing_ compared to this act of intimacy, it isn’t about that and she only wishes he got that. But then his thumb’s against her clit, the movement stilted and unsure, but it’s more than she ever expected and it’s enough to send jolts through her body because everything is tuned into him and his hands because it’s not her. It’s not all inside her head because no matter how vivid an imagination she has it’s nothing compared to his _actual_ hands - cupping her breast and moving inside her. “Mark,” she says again, trying to remember to breathe, to relax, because there’s every chance she might get so focused on his fingers, on coming around them that it just won’t happen.

“What? What is it? Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” the word is torn from her lips in a way that leaves no room for misunderstandings. So he carries on, his thumb against her nipple, his fingers moving inside her and his thumb brushing over her clit in the hope that something will work and not just leave her lying beside him wondering what the hell she’s doing.

And then - by utter chance in his mind - it happens. There’s a sudden catch in her breath, a jolt in her hips and a hand grabbing his arm and he can’t quite believe it, even as her nails dig into his flesh and her muscles spasm around his fingers, even as she twists her head and kisses him breathlessly, moaning against his mouth and shaking against his body. And then she stills and he moves his hand, touching her leg instead, listening to the way she pants so close to his mouth, the occasional shudder against him in the aftermath. And he’s done it, without tuition. He’s made her come and it might actually be one of the greatest feelings in the world.

“Your turn,” she says breathlessly.

“You don’t have to,” he says, angling his hips away from her as if perhaps this will make her forget about his erection.

“No, but I _want_ to.” She does turn in his arms then, cheeks flushed and hair messy, and she leans in, kisses him as she slips her hand between them, presses her palm against his cock and they both moan in unison. She can feel the heat through the fabric as she traces the outline of him slowly with her thumb, pulling back just enough to look at his face. His eyes are closed and he looks ever so slightly pained.

“Mark?” It’s like she can’t breathe properly because all she can think about is how he could stop her at any second and okay they’ve gone further than they ever have before but it isn’t enough, because she wants it to be equal, she wants to be able to touch him just as much as she wants him to be able to touch her.

She looks so worried when he opens his eyes, and he feels terrible. It shouldn’t be this difficult, should it? God, what the fuck’s wrong with him that he can’t let just let her do this? That he can’t get past the fact she’s nineteen years old and far, far too good for him? No one’s forcing her to be here with him, she has choices and this is hers.

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” she whispers, but her eyes are pleading and her hand is so delicate, so tender, and he honestly can’t remember the last time anyone touched him like this.

“No,” he breaths and he smiles shakily. “Just…if I do…”

“I’ll stop,” she says again. “say the word and I’ll stop.”

She’s much too understanding and in many ways that makes it worse. In many ways it would be easier if she just took complete control of the situation and took the choice out of his hands and that idea makes his cock twitch against her fingers as he exhales sharply, stunned by both the thought and his physical reaction to it. She smiles, curls her fingers around him through the fabric and strokes him ever so slowly, eyes fixed on his face, watching his reaction.

“Cass.” He’d been quite happy with this, one step at a time and all that but he doubts this will be enough for her and really the idea isn’t quite as terrifying as it was a few seconds ago, not now she’s actually got his cock in her hand, not now that thought of her being in charge has planted itself in his mind. And then she lets go and he feels her fingers dancing over the buttons of his boxer shorts, her finger tips grazing his skin where the fabric gapes ever so slightly, but it’s enough. It’s skin on skin and his mind doesn’t scream for him to stop her, rather it screams for more.

“Okay?” she asks, as she undoes one button, one-handedly and if he could think about anything but her hands and her smile and her hair tumbling over her face he’d probably be impressed by that.

He nods, kisses her for just a second and then she’s undoing another button, and slipping her hand inside and his cock practically jumps closer, desperate for contact. She brushes against him with the back of her hand and her knuckles, slow and careful as if she’s easing him into it and even that sends jolts of electric down his body, threatening to make him come instantly..

He’s so smooth, so hot Cassie bites her lip with the sheer force of effort it takes not to just wrap her hand around him, not to stroke him and watch him come completely undone in front of her. She needs to take it slow though, more than that, she _wants_ to. She wants to savour this because what if it doesn’t happen again? And even if it does this is the first time and she wants to lock it away in her memory for future reference. Rushing would be a waste of something so important. So she stays like this, their bodies pressed together and her hand sandwiched between them, not enough room to actually move with any skill or freedom and that’s probably for the best, because she _can’t _just let go, not in this position. All she can do is move her hand back and forth, watch the way his lips twitch and his eyes flutter closed, focus on just how good it feels to finally be able to touch him without him pulling away or moving her hand and even though they’re both still clothed it feels better than she ever expected because there’s something so intimate about it, and because it isn’t a meaningless, rushed, drunken rumble with someone who doesn’t even know her name.__

__He hasn’t stopped her, that’s the thing and so she moves ever so slightly, creates a little more space between them so she can turn her hand around, so she can touch him properly, so she can do what she’s been thinking about doing for _months_ now. She’s still expecting him to stop her at any moment, especially now, but all she can think about is how much it’s worth the risk. Her finger tips explore his cock slowly, tracing over the veins and ridges, trying to memorise exactly how he feels._ _

__He hisses a harsh breath when she reaches the tip, her finger tender and gentle. “Cass.” He reaches down, lays his hand over hers and her smile fades, her lip quivers and it actually hurts. “Give me a minute, aye? Just a minute.” Because it’s too much and he’s already embarrassed by just how hard he is, by the fact he feels as if he could come at any moment without anything actually happening. She’s barely even touching him, and it’s pathetic._ _

__Her fingers stop moving instantly, but she keeps them against him and nods. “Am I going too fast?”_ _

__He can’t help but laugh at that question. Too fast? Eight months they’ve been sleeping together, and somehow he’s managed to be so scared of turning their relationship sexual that she’s worried it’s still too fast for him. He can’t help but wonder how long she’d wait, how long she’d stay with none of these touches before she got sick of it and left him. “I’m in serious danger of embarrassing myself here, darling,” he admits, because she deserves the truth, because he can’t let her think this is her fault._ _

__“I don’t mind,” she says quickly, and she really doesn’t. He could come in a second and she wouldn’t mind in the slightest as long as she’s touching him, as long as she gets to be here with him like this when it happens._ _

__“Aye well I do. I just need to calm down a bit.”_ _

__“Should I…” she nods towards her hand, not quite sure how to phrase her question._ _

__“No, no. I think…if you could just not y’know _do_ anything.”_ _

__She stays exactly where she is, slightly nervous about so much as breathing, her hand still on him, and his over hers. And it’s slightly awkward, the silence filling the room around them as she waits, sure she should say something, but she has no idea quite what._ _

__“Okay,” he says after a couple of minutes, letting out a deep breath and letting go of her hand._ _

__“Don’t worry, yeah?” she replies, as she curls her hand round him loosely. “Whatever happens, it doesn’t matter.”_ _

__He closes his eyes, tries to relax, because regardless of what she’s said he doesn’t want this to be over in thirty seconds, not after how long it’s taken him to get to this point. He feels her move away, her weight move from the bed beside him, and he realises she’s sitting up, she’s looking at him properly and he can’t quite comprehend why she’d want to. “Cass?” he says as he feels her hand pushing his t-shirt up over his stomach and he opens his eyes then, sees her looking at him like he’s something special and no one’s looked at him like that for nearly twenty years. Her hand moves from his stomach to his hip, gripping lightly and she smiles in that way that makes his stomach flip as she finally tightens her hold round his cock, stroking him slowly, her eyes fixed on his face and he can’t quite deal with the weight of her gaze so again he closes his eyes._ _

__“Don’t,” she whispers though there’s an urgency in her tone that he can’t ignore._ _

__She gets it, of course she does. She used to only fuck in completely dark rooms, she used to not let people see her body. It’s that need to hide, to disconnect and that’s the problem, because she doesn’t want him disconnecting or hiding, not from her. “It’s okay,” she says when he looks up at her. “It’s all okay. You‘re perfect. You can look.”_ _

__His gaze flickers down, to her hand moving against him, and she’s wrong. He isn’t perfect and the sight is obscene - him thick and hard and _dark_ in her beautiful pale hand. It’s mesmerising though, the movement of her hand so graceful and he moans, already dangerously close to being over stimulated. “ _Fuck_!”_ _

__His voice is rough with lust and it goes straight to her groin, distracting her enough to lose focus on what she’s doing and her hand speeds up. His hips tilt forward and his head goes back, pressing into the pillow, mouth slack and she knows he’s lost it, that he’s coming undone and he looks so perfect she can barely stand it. Which is why she doesn’t slow down again, why she just carries on._ _

__“It’s okay,” she says again, because she’s sure he needs reminding._ _

__It isn’t. He’s sure it isn’t, but what the hell is he supposed to do with her looking at him like that? Her hand so perfect around him, and he can already see stars in the darkness of their room, can already feel all other thoughts and worries disappearing to be replaced by the sensation of her hand, moving too fast against him, too wonderfully and it’s been so long, too long and her voice echoes in his head _It’s okay, it’s okay, it‘s okay._ “Cass, fuck!” and it’s too soon, barely a couple of minutes since she took him into her hand properly, but he can’t stop himself and he watches himself coming over her hand through the blur of lust and climax and he looks up to her face expecting to see disappointment but she’s still smiling, like this is something amazing - him coming all over her hand in two fucking minutes._ _

__“I’m sorry,” he mumbles quickly, even as her hand’s still moving, even as he’s still coming and she leans over him, hand still around his cock as it softens._ _

__“You’re perfect,” she says and she finally lets go of him, licking her hand clean as he watches, eyes fixed on her tongue. “Christ, Mark.”_ _

__“It wasn’t…what must you think of me?”_ _

__“I think you’re wonderful,” she says, and he can taste himself on her lips as she kisses him. “And I think no one’s touched you for months, just like no one’s touched me. Only it’s fine for me to come in like two minutes, yeah? Because it’s a bit harder to make it happen and because I can do it again, because it doesn’t stop me fucking? I don’t care, Mark. I don’t care if the first time we have sex you come in ten seconds. It doesn’t matter to me. It’s not about that.”_ _

__“What is it about?” He can’t quite comprehend it. It’s just too difficult, and he knows she loves him - why the hell else would she be here otherwise, but he doesn’t understand and it’s in moments like this that, late at night, in a haze of lust, he can ask._ _

__She looks at him like he’s an idiot, she knows she’s doing it she just can’t help herself, because sometimes he is. Though actually she isn’t entirely sure where to start, because it’s about so many things. “It’s about being close,” she says slowly, because that isn’t quite what it is and she’s still trying to make sense of things in her head. “It’s about…being able to do this, being able to touch you. It’s about making it real, you and me, like we’re a couple. Like properly. I want you so much and it doesn’t matter about Sid, about the fact you’re older than me. None of it’s about that. I love you for you, yeah? You need to accept this, or what the fuck are we doing?” She doesn’t sound nearly as angry as he thinks she should. He can’t imagine how this is for her, having to deal with him and his refusal to sleep with her._ _

__“I love you,” he says, sitting up, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I don’t deserve you. But it’ll get better, I promise.”_ _

__“As long as you’re comfortable…”_ _

__“I’m getting there.”_ _


End file.
